This week my homework assignment for my food narratives course was to write a short paper- “In a mock-heroic tone, write about a feat of eating”. Seeing as super bowl sunday was right around the corner, I figured game day would be the perfect premise for my narrative. I used the entry from my last blog post to begin my paper and continued on from there.

NO Disclaimer: There is no exaggeration in what follows for the amount of food I or others consumed.

It was the day of the year. Americans all across the country had been looking forward to this day for weeks, it was finally the day of the super bowl! I must confess however, that I had ulterior motives for my excitement about the big game. To me this is not so much a day to watch football or celebrate the national holiday of beer drinking, as it is a day to completely binge on every single delicious and unhealthy food known to man. With the exception of holiday meals, the super bowl seems to be one of the few days where it is considered socially acceptable to gorge on all sorts of tasty treats that one would otherwise avoid. On that day, I not only planned to participate in the festivities of my friend’s super bowl party, but I made it my challenge to consume as much food as I could get my hands on.

And oh were there wondrous foods to behold! We spent the entire morning preparing enough food to feed an army along with all of their families. It felt similar to thanksgiving in that I spent the morning helping out here and there, surrounded by friends as well as the mouth watering aromas of goodies I was not yet allowed to devour. In preparation for the feast I withheld from eating any food at all. I could feel my stomach rumbling and it took all the effort I possessed not to sneak nibbles of the meal. I knew that if I began I would be past the point of no return. We simmered pounds of spicy taco meat while a pot of black beans bubbled away on the stove. We chopped countless tomatoes, jalapeños, peppers, and onions, wiping away the sweat and tears from our toils as we went. Platters of vegetables were laid out next to bowls of every dipping sauce imaginable. In fact, one girl even contributed her special buffalo chicken dip. We were lucky enough to have two trays of cream cheese, bleu cheese, shredded chicken, hot sauce and shredded cheddar all melted together and ready to pour on every side dish. Until that moment I hadn’t realized how many possible ways you could fry a potato and had an epiphany as we poured innumerable bags of various chips into large bowls. We set out a range two liter sodas and tallboy beers next to platters of  “ultimate nachos” that were wafting a dangerously delicious scent. We finally added five large pizzas pies, sixty chicken wings, and curly fries to the spread. I glanced at the clock and my heart leapt as I noticed it was nearly five thirty, only an hour until show time. And no, I was did not mean the game.

I could not wait any longer and contented myself by allowing one slice of pizza and an entire bag of baby carrots with ranch dressing. The clock struck six, a half an hour to go. Guests began to arrive and we greeted all of our friends. Finally it was time to eat! Five minutes before the game started we loaded up our plates until they were piled high with morsels that precariously teetered and threatened to topple off of the mountain of food on our dishes. I crammed between a few people on a small couch and began my feast.

My first course consisted of a plateful of ultimate nachos and eight medium chicken wings slathered in a thick and creamy bleu cheese dressing. I demolished this helping in about five minutes with my only trouble being a hidden jalapeño that forced me to chug an Arizona ice tea. On to the second helping. This consisted of a mound of buffalo chicken dip that threatened to overtake the accompanying curly fries, scoop-able tortilla chips, broccoli and celery that occupied the rest of my plate. I followed this up with a tall boy and two slices of cheese pizza. I slowed my eating pace as I went and reminded myself that this was a marathon, not a sprint. It was nearly half time. After another dish of chips and broccoli covered in queso, a slice of pepperoni pizza, two more tall boys, another cup of ice tea, and some now cold chicken dip, the game was over. But the Giants had won! The celebration was only just beginning. We took to the streets along with many other Fordham students and spent the night in various bars singing songs such as “New York State of Mind” by Alicia Keys and “New York, New York” by Frank Sinatra. We swayed back and forth with our arms in the air shouting as people passed along trays of turkey subs that we happily gobbled up. A final glance at the clock alerted me to the late hour. My roommate Devon and I reluctantly parted ways with our friends and headed to the metro north train station, however not before we got the chance to grab a snack for the road. As we strolled to the station during an unusually warm night for early February, I contentedly gnawed on two final slices of pepperoni pizza that I dunked into the remaining bleu cheese and hot sauce left over from the chicken wings. Devon preferred to dip her pizza in queso. Our night ended with an impromptu psychic reading that eerily predicted I would soon travel to Florida and that Devon’s health would vastly improve over the next month. (Comforting to know after the amount of artery clogging food we had just consumed) The prediction was strangely accurate seeing as we had just purchased spring break tickets for Miami and had planned to experiment with a vegan diet until break. We intentionally decided to begin the day after the super bowl. We viewed the feast from that night as a sort of last supper. Indeed the meal was a feast of every food I will miss and dream about for the next month. Yes, I ate an entire large sized pizza pie to myself, and yes, it was fantastic. I may have gained a few pounds from one day of eating, but the way I see it, those foods went to all the right places.